


never choose between two (but i just wanted you)

by leeinthesky



Category: New Amsterdam (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Getting Together, Max Puts Himself First, actually, helen has so much power over him, max ‘heart eyes’ goodwin, more of a continuation, rooftop scene rewrite, what i wish had actually happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeinthesky/pseuds/leeinthesky
Summary: you said, ‘never pick sides, never choose between two’but i just wanted you, i just wanted youi think you’re a contratechnically, there are five levels of triage. five is the lowest, one is the highest. helen looks at her relationship with max, and knows it is at a level one. how can she fix this?





	never choose between two (but i just wanted you)

**Author's Note:**

> to the scene that broke all of our hearts! i actually liked the actual scene itself because helen was right- it was too many roles for her to play. but max not fighting for them? for _her_? made no sense to me. and out of that, this was born. 
> 
> standard ‘i don’t own these characters’ blah blah blah title is from ‘i think ur a contra’ by vampire weekend. ENJOY!!!

technically, there are five levels of triage. 

five is the least urgent. a level five patient can wait to see a doctor for hours. a level five patient has maybe an annoying rash or a cough that won’t go away. ten percent of people who come into the new amsterdam emergency room are level five patients, and zero percent of them are ever admitted for treatment.

one is the most urgent. they’re your car crash victims, your shanked and bleeding out inmates from rikers, and ‘i thought the safety was on’ idiots. ones are urgent, ones die. ones make up only two percent of people who arrive at new amsterdam, but seventy three percent of them are admitted in the long run.

the five level system of triage is kind of new. helen sharpe learned the simpler three level _‘nonurgent, urgent, emergent’_ system in medical school like most of the other doctors at new am. she still mentally uses the three level system, unknowingly dividing her life into _nonurgent urgent emergent_. three neat little boxes that determine how soon a problem needs to be dealt with. 

when helen first met max goodwin, he wasn’t even in the _urgent_ box. he was pretty, and he was earnest, and he had big ideas about what he wanted to accomplish at new amsterdam, even if he was a little sure of it all. then, he’d come to her with suspicions of cancer just as they’d been becoming good friends and with a hop, a skip, and a jump, max found himself in the urgent box. he’s her _friend_ , and he has cancer, and yeah she’s worried about him, but wouldn’t you be if your friend had cancer? that’s when things start to go weird, when they start to leave helen’s hands and pretty much smash her mental boxes to pieces. max goodwin starts looking at her like she’s- like she’s _something_ to him, but she can’t quite place the looks he gives her and the warm feeling in her chest when he brushes up against her.

they have a thing, panthaki says, effectively lighting her boxes on fire and tap dancing around the ashes. a vibe. helen vehemently denies it, but he says it over and over again until helen starts to believe that maybe he’s right. maybe they do have a vibe. maybe there _is_ something there, and helen can’t help that she wishes it were true. ‘ _now you can go be with him_ ,’ akash hisses when he finally breaks it off with her. it’s all venom, and helen is surprised to find that it doesn’t particularly bother her when he storms out of her apartment. max was the only point of contention in helen and panthaki’s relationship; he insisted that max couldn’t respect her authority as his doctor AND deputy AND friend, and she just thought he was jealous. 

but maybe he was a little right, helen can admit. the night of the blizzard, max insists on going out in the snow despite helen’s pleas to stay inside, compromised immune system be damned. and he goes _back_ out for the telemetry equipment, and helen is only half listening to this psychic lady because she’s so goddamn worried about max. all she can hear is ‘i love my doctor, i love my doctor, i love my doctor’ playing in her head when she thinks about him, and she _knows_ that he didn’t mean anything by it, which is the worst part. he comes back fine, cheeks flushed and panting the only indication that he’d been doing anything strenuous at all. max tries to play it off like it’s just the cold, but helen can see he’s struggling. 

then max collapses in the snow, and what’s even scarier than that is how little effort helen, all five-foot-two of her, has to exert to carry his thin and shaking frame back to the hospital. 

she can’t do this, not again. helen can’t fall like this again. she’s loved a man who put everyone else in front of himself before, and he was dragged from her arms as easily as anything. in some ways, this is worse; helen can see max slipping away from her bit by bit, piece by piece. this isn’t some quick loss, this is watching someone she loves _die_ , and helen is increasingly terrified that there’s nothing she can do it stop it. 

because she does. love him, that is. 

helen realizes it as they sit in the hallway after they get out of the snow. she looks down at max and he’s looking up at her with such- _adoration_ , and she really wants to bend down and kiss him and she has the truly exhilarating feeling that he would let her. 

then the lights go out and they have much more important things to think about than what the other tastes like. 

there’s so much to do, so much to fix and too many patients who need attending to for helen to be freaking out about her relationship with max, and yet here she is. every corner she rounds is max, saving someone else with no thought to how it’s running his body down. helen begs him to sit, to rest, to drink some water or eat some food, but every time he waves her off and runs away to go help another person who isn’t himself. it’s scary. helen is scared. 

so helen sharpe does what every rational, logical person does when they’re afraid: she puts her mental boxes back in order. _nonurgent, urgent, emergent._ helen stomps out the mental trash fire, shoos bitter little mental panthaki away, and tapes up the boxes until they somewhat resemble the order she craves. it’s hard, and it hurts, and helen is aware that she’s trivializing, but she tries hard to revert to the person she was before max. good at being unfeeling and detached and always, always in control. she sees a few people, pulls a few strings, and tries to keep herself together. the only thing left to do is see max. 

he’s on the roof. she doesn’t know when that became their spot, but at the same time, helen doesn’t know if she could tell him what she’s about to tell him anywhere else. he’s looking out over the city, face illuminated by the rising sun. she almost just wants to stand there and watch him, but he glances over when he hears the crunch of her boots in the snow and gives her a small smile. 

‘you were bloody magnificent last night,’ he says. then, as if laughing at himself, he turns back out to the skyscrapers of manhattan and huffs out a breath. ‘i just said ‘bloody’.’

it feels like all of the air in helen’s lungs is freezing. she only half-returns his smile. ‘i could think of a better word, under the circumstances.’ her whole body feels cold, and not because of the weather. 

‘it’s a uk thing,’ he shrugs at her, and _that_ makes her smile.

she digs a toe into the snow and nods sagely. ‘so i’ve heard.’

‘mhmm.’ max is full on grinning at her now, looking pleased with himself for making her laugh, and it just makes this whole thing so much harder. then he turns serious. ‘really,’ he insists, shaking his head. ‘there’s no way i would have gotten through it without you. we make a good team.’ 

the time is nigh.

‘that’s what i wanted to speak to you about, actually,’ helen tells him shakily, wringing her hands just a little. she fights to put her hands back down at her sides and tries to look him in the eyes. now _he_ looks nervous. ‘before the power went out.’ 

max has this concerned look on his face, the one where he gets the crease between his eyebrows and looks at you like he’s getting ready to solve a problem. but helen doesn’t let it throw her off, and pushes through with her practiced speech.

deep breaths, she tells herself. ‘this thing where i am your deputy, and your doctor, and your confidante, and your friend-’

‘that is a lot,’ max concedes. he looks like he’s floundering. helen can hardly keep her eyes on his, this is so difficult. 

‘yeah, it is.’ deep breaths, helen. she practically chokes on her next words: ‘and it’s not working.’ 

the crease between his eyebrows grows deeper. max shakes his head a little, like he can’t even comprehend what’s happening. he looks like he wants to ask her something, but helen can’t let him speak for fear that she’ll lose all resolve and run into his arms. 

‘all last night, we needed to choose who to save, and every time, you chose all of the above.’

she didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but max takes a little step back like he’s been slapped. ‘yeah, i-’

‘no, that’s not a criticism. i’m glad you did, you saved everyone,’ helen assures him. 

‘ _we_ saved everyone,’ max corrects quickly, trying to get a word in edgewise. 

‘yes,’ she nods. why does he have to make this more difficult than it already is? helen can feel the tears growing in her eyes, but doesn’t allow them to fall. ‘it worked out, but sometimes it doesn’t. sometimes, you have to choose. and you couldn’t.’ 

it hurts helen in her chest to talk to him like this. the look on his face hurts helen in her chest. she feels like she might be sick with how painful it is.

max shakes his head. he still doesn’t understand what she’s saying. ‘you just said it all worked out, and i-’ he shakes his head again. ‘i don’t see what me not triaging patients has to do with- with _us_ ’

 _us_. a neat little euphemism for whatever is going on between them. they stare at one another for a moment, and helen knows her eyes are sad. she doesn’t want to cry in front of him, so she smiles instead. small, and sad, and tired as helen regards max and the desperate look on his face.

‘it’s what you do with your cancer as well.’ it’s such a 180 from what they’ve just been talking about. she can tell it comes way out of left field for him. ‘you wanna stay healthy for luna, but you also want to stay in charge of the hospital. you want the strongest chemo that we have, just none of the side effects that come with it. from the day this began- from the day that we _met_ \- you have refused to choose.’

‘i’m not refusing, it’s not that easy,’ max fights back, and helen lets him. she has to bite the inside of her cheek, hard, to say no to the look on his face. ‘look, helen, all i want is-’

he takes a step towards her, but she can’t let him. ‘max,’ helen says sharply, and he freezes. he knows he’s lost. ‘you want everything. it’s who you are. you are all of the above.’ _it’s one of the things i love about you_ , she wants to say, but knows she can’t. ‘and then you come to me with these demands, these… _inspiring_ , completely impossible demands, and i don’t know who i’m supposed to be-’ _to you_.

‘you’re supposed to be you,’ max insists, and now he looks like he might cry too. 

‘i’ve tried! i’ve tried to be all of the above. i can’t,’ helen all but shouts. she’s almost mad at him. can’t he see how little she wants to do this? this is worse than anything helen sharpe has ever done. she takes a deep breath, and tries again. ‘i can’t be your friend and your doctor and your deputy, so i have to choose. i have to triage us.’ 

max scoffs, turning his face to look away, and helen quickly wipes her eyes so he doesn’t see the tears that are falling. 

‘i’ve asked doctor staunton to take over for me.’

‘no! helen-’

‘she is an exceptional oncologist,’ helen powers on. ‘she will handle your care, effective immediately.’ 

max looks hurt. he doesn’t fight the tears that come to his eyes, and helen has to screw her eyes shut at the sight of one spilling out over his cheek. ‘but what if i want you?’

her eyes fly open at that. helen fixes her gaze straight on his chest, refusing to look him in the eyes. ‘i’m afraid that’s no longer an option,’ she tells him, voice sounding deadpan and hurt. she can’t help the way her eyes flick up to his blue ones. he’s studying her face. ‘because we all want you.’

helen expects max to fight this like hell, so with that, she turns and pushes her way through the snow back to the stairs and into the warmth. she doesn’t know what hurts more: the conversation they just had or the fact that max goodwin, professional pusher and notorious non-chooser, doesn’t try to call her back or chase her inside. helen slams the access door shut with her whole body and tries to steady her wildly-beating heart. it only takes about a second for helen to realize the implications of what she’s just done, and she quits trying to hold in her tears anymore. she claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds of the sobs that wrack her body, but still they echo all around her in the empty staircase.

~

helen gets out of the hospital as quickly as possible.

she really shouldn’t, after the blizzard, but max is there and doctors and nurses are slowly showing up as the snow is cleared, so she figures they’ve got it all under control.

helen, for her part, hurries home to a very large glass of some very strong alcohol and a pint of ben and jerry’s. she tries not to think about her conversation (ultimatum) with max and fails miserably. was she too harsh? how does she face him after this? does he know that it was one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do in her life?

each time helen starts to think about max, and how hurt he looked, how he looked like she might as well have been _breaking up with him_ , she pours herself another day drink. not the greatest coping strategy, she knows, but hey. it’s working for her. 

he just- sometimes he makes her so _mad_. max is the most selfless person person helen knows and she loves him for it, but god, does she wish that just this once he would be selfish. for her. or let _her_ be selfish and make him stay home. helen is still grappling with the whole ‘i’m in love with max goodwin’ thing and while that’s a whole scary issue in and of itself, it still leaves the question- would he change for her? she knows it’s not fair to ask max to change his entire personality, and that’s the absolute last thing she wants. helen just wants him, just this once, to put himself in front of everyone else. to put her in front of everyone else. 

if max won’t choose himself, how could he choose her?

helen doesn’t like the loaded implications of that one, so she makes herself another mai tai. she’s just poured herself the drink when there’s a frantic _knock knock knock knock_ on her front door. there’s no reason anyone should be banging on her door at nearly noon on a weekday after a literal blizzard, but helen’s a little tipsy and her building’s got a doorman, so it can’t be anyone too crazy. probably her neighbor, who’s always losing her blind cat. whoever it is knocks again, so helen peels herself off the couch and yanks open the door. 

it’s _max_. 

‘no,’ he says breathlessly. did he run up the stairs?

helen is still in shock, but this doesn’t make sense anyways. ‘what? max-‘

‘no,’ max says again, more forcefully. ‘no, you don’t get to choose for me, _i won’t let you_.’

‘max, i didn’t want to choose for you! that was the hardest decision of my _life_. you made me do that, and i’m not going to apologize for it!’ she all but yells at him. helen’s crazy cat lady neighbor is peeking her head out into the hall, so she grabs max by the arm and pulls him into her flat. 

max comes willingly, but is talking again before the door is even shut. ‘i’m not asking you to apologize.’ he sounds exasperated. ‘but you still don’t get to just- just do that! you’re my _friend_ helen, you come, and you talk to me, and we figure it out. together.’

together. god, does that sound nice. but helen doesn’t let him distract her. ‘don’t get to do what, max? know what my limits are?’ she laughs bitterly. ‘maybe you could learn a little something from me!’

it’s mean. it’s mean thing, designed specifically to hurt him, and while helen feels great when she says it, the look on max’s face after is horrible. he has to step back and take a second, huffing a breath out through his nose and looking around her apartment. his eyes zero in on the abandoned mai tai on the bar and his head snaps back to helen’s, eyes wide. 

‘have you been drinking?’ he asks her incredulously. ‘i’m not doing this with you if you’re drunk.’

‘i’m not _drunk_ , max,’ helen scoffs, lying slightly. ‘i can handle myself-‘

‘people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk,’ max mumbles, eyeing the door, and helen feels like there’s a story there. she doubts he’d tell her now, though. 

the alcohol in her veins burns. ‘don’t worry,’ she says, stepping back into his space. he doesn’t stop her. ‘i’m an honest drunk.’

‘so you _are_ -‘

helen rolls her eyes and claps a hand over his mouth. she’s bold because she’s tipsy, and max’s eyes are shining brilliantly, so she takes an extra second to search them before she moves her hand. 

‘you scared me, last night,’ helen admits. ‘every time you went out in the snow, i worried that you wouldn’t come back. i’ve seen what chemo does to people- i can see what it’s doing to _you_. and it scares me. you give pieces of yourself to everyone you meet, and i love that about you, but i’m afraid that one day you’ll waste away and there won’t be anything left for yourself.’ _or for me_. ‘that’s why i did what i did. i can’t be objective anymore, i care about you too much to be your doctor.’

max looks slightly bewildered by this. ‘helen,ot’s gonna be fine. _i’m_ gonna be fine,’ he says incredulously, but also like he’s struggling to believe it himself. max grabs her hands and walks her over to the couch. ‘i- that’s what i have to keep telling myself: that i’m gonna be fine. what’s gonna happen to me if i stop believing that? i’m terrified that if i stop, then i’ll just...give up.’

helen is such a fucking idiot. of course max is scared too, and he has every right to be. more right than helen, anyways. ‘of course you’re going to be fine,’ helen gasps out, taking her hands out of his to cup his face. ‘of _course_ you are. but you have to allow yourself to get there, max- you have to put yourself first. be selfish,’ she all but begs him. ‘for once, be selfish. if not for yourself, then for me, because i can’t lose you.’

he grabs her wrists, and for a horrible second, helen is sure he’s going to take her hands off his face. she’s crossed the ill-defined and tenuous line between professional colleagues and something more that they’ve been holding from the day they met, and helen isn’t sure what max will do. but then his thumbs ghost over the back of her hands and helen has to remember to _breathe_ as max brings his forehead to rest against hers. he stares into her eyes, and the corners of his own baby blues crinkle as he gives her a soft smile. 

‘okay, he whispers, and helen’s heart really does stop. ‘i’ll be selfish for you. you’re stuck with me, helen sharpe.’

the midday light is streaming in through helen’s big windows and hitting his face so perfectly and she’s so mesmerized by how beautiful max is that she doesn’t catch him leaning forward until his lips are literally on hers. 

it surprises her at first, how second nature it is to kiss him and how perfectly their faces fit together, but she sighs into the kiss anyways. he’s as eager as he ever is, working his tongue into helen’s mouth, but she’s pleasantly surprised when she tugs on his hair and he whines. helen wonders how else she can get him to make that sound, and if georgia knows all the ways, and-

suddenly, helen’s heart is in her throat for a whole different reason than the fact that max goodwin is currently feeling her up like a high schooler. 

his lips chase hers when she pulls away. ‘georgia-‘

‘is gone,’ max assures her as he catches his breath. ‘she moved back in with her parents, the only thing she hasn’t done is send the divorce papers.’

helen searches his face. ‘i’m sorry,’ she says honestly. she knows that in his own way, max still loves her. 

max shrugs a little sadly, and brings his hand up brush a stray baby hair out of her eyes. ‘it’s been a long time coming. we haven’t really been okay in a while. besides, i can’t give her everything she needs, and she knew my heart belonged to someone else long before i did.’

oh. he’s talking about her. it makes helen’s stomach flutter (it’s definitely _not_ the copious amounts of alcohol she’s had in the last five hours), and she can feel her cheeks heat up as she grins. max kisses her smile gently, and laughs as he pulls away. 

‘how many of those things did you have?’ max teases as he nods to the mai tai on the counter. ‘you taste like straight rum.’

‘oh, hush,’ helen says, tackling him so that she’s laying over him on the couch. ‘i was afraid i’d lost you.’

max snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her down so that she’s laying with her head on his chest. helen can hear the steady _ba dum. ba dum. ba dum._ of his heart, and even though the treatment has taken weight off of him, she can feel the hard layer of muscle that covers almost all of his body. 

‘no way,’ max says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ‘you could never lose me.’

helen pushes up a little to look down at him. ‘don’t ever make me worried that i might again,’ she tells him sternly. ‘i’m serious, max. if it means taking a personal day, then do it. you feel like your chemo is too much? tell doctor staunton. and you need someone at every treatment with you- ask me and i’ll be there. nonurgent, urgent, emergent, okay?’

‘are we still talking about triage?’ max groans. ‘no more, please.’

‘ _max_.’ she smiles despite not meaning to. ‘it’s- it’s how i manage everything. everything goes in a box in my head: nonurgent, urgent, emergent. it sucks sometimes, but it works. you have to prioritize sometimes, even when you don’t want to. anything ever gets to the ‘emergent’ box, you come to me, and we talk, and we’ll figure it out,’ helen says, echoing what max had said earlier. 

it makes him smile. ‘together,’ max all but whispers. ‘i promise.’

those two words- ‘i promise’- make helen practically giddy. they’re little, but the sentiment is there and she knows that max would never deliberately break a promise like that. he’s choosing himself. he’s choosing _her_. it makes her heart soar, and the lightheadedness she feels isn’t from all of the alcohol she’d had earlier. it’s from max goodwin, warm and solid and steady underneath her, and the way he’s smiling up at her with a sort of reverence. 

‘helen sharpe,’ he says after a minute, ‘will you come to chemo with me tomorrow?’

helen doesn’t fight the smile from growing on her face. ‘i would be honored, max goodwin.’

~

when helen gets off work and heads down to the cancer ward the next day, max is already sitting in his chair and hooked up to his iv drip. 

‘sorry,’ he says sheepishly when he sees the look on helen’s face. ‘i got here early.’

‘i see that,’ she says wryly. she only keeps up her displeased face for a second before she has to smile at him. helen turns to the others that sit around the small table- it looks like they’re playing go fish. ‘hello, you guys.’

‘hey doc,’ willow smiles widely. she’s one of helen’s patients. ‘anyone got some fours?’

helen fishes the four out of max’s deck he’s trying to hide. he pouts at her as she hands it over. ‘nope, it’s just helen. i’m off the clock now.’

leah- she’s one of staunton’s patients, helen thinks- arches an eyebrow, but just calls out for any sixes. 

‘i’m going to the cafeteria,’ helen tells max quietly. ‘you want one of those protein shakes you like?’

max goes a little green at the mention of food. a fun little side effect of chemo is the overwhelming nauseousness, she knows, so she just rubs his shoulder comfortingly. he smiles gratefully up at her, and suddenly helen becomes very aware of the fact that everyone’s staring at them. 

‘think it’s your turn,’ she says, clearing her throat a little. ‘no getting up while i’m gone. no wandering the halls trying to treat patients. and _nothing_ that is going to tire you out too much, you got it mister?’

helen gives him a fake stern look, but there’s no need. ‘okay,’ max says with one of those soft smiles of his. ‘promise.’

willow looks between them incredulously. ‘what, you’re not gonna try and fight that? you, doctor max goodwin?’

‘nope.’ max pops the ‘p’. ‘i am gonna start putting myself first.’ he grabs the hand that helen has on his shoulder and gives it a kiss. ‘because i love my doctor.’

forty eight hours beforehand, that would have freaked helen out, set her mental filing system on fire and completely short circuited her brain. now, it just makes her heart skip a beat and puts an extra spring in her step as she walks out of the treatment ward and towards the cafe. 

helen likes her three level triage system. it’s what she learned in medical school, it’s what’s ingrained in her. but every day, max goodwin is showing her why a more nuanced system is what hospitals actually use. not every problem can be placed in a box, or can even fit in one. and as helen turns back to look at max only to find him already watching her walk away with a blissed out smile on his face, she’s not surprised to find a mental max-sized box right next to her others, nor is she surprised to feel the max shaped hole in her heart. 

max goodwin has chosen for the first time in his life, and he chose _her_. 

helen smiles back. the rest is history.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought- loved it? leave a kudos and a comment! hated it- leave a kudos anyways! 
> 
> doctpr-sharpe on tumblr, as always


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